


but the world goes on

by see_addy_write



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Healing, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: Magnus has lost his magic, and it takes a six year old's voice of reason to remind Catarina that she's no fair-weather friend.





	but the world goes on

**Author's Note:**

> hi :) i've been sitting on parts and snippets of this since the mid-season finale aired, and nearly dropped it all-together when i heard the show had been cancelled. but there aren't nearly enough fics that show the friendship between Magnus and Catarina, & i've had this image of Magnus struggling with putting on his makeup without magic stuck in my head ... so you guys get this. it's not beta read, & it's really three different scenes tossed together, but i hope you still get some enjoyment from it.

Catarina did not handle the news of Magnus’ stolen immortality well. 

For a woman who had built a career on serenity and empathy, her reaction to the words was incredibly volatile and selfish — despite knowing that this had to be killing Magnus, all she could think of was how it would effect her. Magnus had been a constant in her life since the day he’d rescued her from the pyre in Spain, an unlikely savior, and she had always trusted that he would be there. A shoulder to cry on, an endless reservoir of strength that he had never ceased to use on her behalf, an honest opinion that never thought to spare her feelings, and an open pair of arms whenever she needed a friend. 

After Ragnor’s death, Catarina had vowed that she would not lose another friend — and now, she was losing Magnus to an all too short mortal existence. Because she had been stupid enough to recommend he go to his father for help in saving a nephilim. Instead of simply helping him herself, instead of taking a risk and standing beside him, she had sent him to Asmodeus. She had made him bargain, and made him sacrifice his power. 

When Catarina had denied reality, she had all but plastered himself to him, her magic flowing out of her entire body and wrapping around him in desperation, probing his very soul for a way to bring his power back. She searched him for any injury, a mental block or a curse — anything that could have possibly done this aside from the irreversible explanation Magnus had given her. When she found none, Catarina buried her face in Magnus’ shoulder, ignoring her murmured assurances and gentle hands on her back, trying to soothe her. 

Fury had burned in the place of hopelessness, and Catarina had pushed him away, railing at him for being so stupid — and then she had opened a portal, one that burned red, rather than the usual soft blue of her magic used while calm. For the next three days, she had hidden from every call, and thrown herself fiercely into work, and when her shifts ended, into spending time with Madzie. The little girl was entirely too smart, though; she knew that Catarina was upset, and began asking questions over breakfast on the third day, as if she’d been waiting to see if Catarina’s black mood would dissipate on its own, first. 

“Momma,” Madzie asked, looking up from her booster seat on the kitchen chair. She was holding a tiny purple spoon, and still wearing her favorite pajamas — again, purple, decorated with various princesses with glittery dresses that Magnus had gifted Madzie the first time he came to visit after Catarina had decided to adopt her. “Why so sad?” 

Catarina’s eyelids slid closed for a moment, and she was grateful she had gotten up to pour more orange juice for both of them, since she was facing the fridge, rather than the little girl. She took a slow breath, then turned around, a soft smile on her face. “I’m not sad, sweetheart,” she promised. “Everything is fine.”

Madzie’s expression was not fooled by Catarina’s words, and when the little girl took another bite of her scrambled eggs, there was a bit more fervor to it than strictly necessary. “I called Magnus last night,” she told the older woman, and if Catarina didn’t know any better, she would say there was a bit of a challenge in the little girl’s words. 

“Oh?” The response was calm, and came with one arched eyebrow. Madzie had learned to use the phone early in her stay with Catarina; she had not trusted her, at first, which was only fair when one considered where she’d come from. The phone had been her link to Magnus and Alec, who had rescued her in their own ways, and Catarina had been happy to allow her use of it. 

This time, it would seem, that skill was about to make her life more difficult instead of less. 

“Mhmm.” Madzie hummed, taking a drink of her orange juice after Catarina handed it to her. Only a little dribbled down the front of her pajamas, and Catarina had to glance away so she didn’t chuckle at the juxtaposition of that and the solemn look on her face. “He said you were sad because he made you sad, and I should give you a hug.” There was a confused look in Madzie’s eyes at that, like she knew that Magnus was the one who really needed the affection, but couldn’t quite figure out why he wouldn’t admit it. Catarina knew the feeling; after centuries of friendship, she still didn’t understand Magnus when he was hurting, and she doubted she ever would. 

“But Magnus is nice,” Madzie continued insistently, watching as Catarina settled down at the table with a plate of toast for both of them. “He didn’t mean to make you sad. Tell him to say sorry, and then give him a hug, and then we can all go have ice cream.”

There was no way to avoid laughing at that, really, even if the sound was almost helpless. That had been how Catarina dealt with Madzie’s outbursts, since she’d come to live with her. A little girl raised by Iris Rouse, then taken by Valentine and used for her powers was bound to have some things to work through, and Catarina had been careful not to make her feel badly about it. Everything was forgiven after an apology and a hug, and on warm nights, ice cream usually came after as a way to remind both of them that they were no longer alone in this world. 

Catarina gave her daughter a bemused look, hesitating — then finally nodded. “Maybe you’re right,” she allowed with a small smile. “Maybe we should go visit Magnus today, then, what do you think?” Rifts between warlocks could last for years without much burden; their lives were so long that the urgency to give apologies and right wrongs was never truly there. But Magnus was no longer immortal, and Catarina didn’t think she could waste another moment of whatever time they had left being angry about something that wasn’t hers to be angry about.

It had taken the wisdom of a six year old girl to make her see that. Once again, Catarina was swamped by gratitude to the universe that Madzie had become her child, no matter what the circumstances.

Madzie was quiet for a moment, which was not the reaction Catarina had anticipated to her offer. Usually, an offer to visit Magnus and Alec was received with cheers and smiles, and sometimes even tiny, uncontrolled sparks of magic. When the older woman looked at Madzie in askance, the little girl stared straight back, and shook her head. “You gotta fix Magnus,” she said stubbornly. 

Catarina raised an eyebrow, but inwardly, her heart broke a little at the stubborn statement. Madzie believed that she could fix anything, and the older woman desperately wished she could live up to that faith — but she knew that it was impossible. The only thing that could truly make Magnus happy now was getting his magic back, and Asmodeus was the only one who could grant that wish. 

“I think if we both visited, he would be a lot happier,” Catarina tried again, but the little girl wasn’t having it. Instead, she shook her head vehemently, putting her fork down to look at Catarina. “I have to go to school,” she said, as if it were obvious that she could not do anything else. “I’m already dressed, and my backpack is all ready! You go. And then Magnus can come for dinner!” At least Madzie seemed over her bout of almost frightening maturity, now — she understood far too much for someone her age, and Catarina couldn’t help but worry that it would hurt her, in the long run. “No sushi, though,” Madzie continued, her little nose wrinkled in distaste. “That was gross!”

Magnus had summoned dinner, the last time Madzie visited. Needless to say, it had not gone over well!

Smothering a laugh, Catarina nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter. For what must have been the thousandth time since Madzie came into her life, and definitely the second or third time just that morning, she thanked whatever God may have been listening for bringing her this little girl. “All right,” she said seriously, not wanting Madzie to think she was teasing her. “I’ll go visit while you’re in school today, and bring him here for dinner. That sounds like a good plan to me!” 

And so, after Madzie was delivered to the estate that served as a warlock preschool and safely in the care of the warlock who ran it, Catarina braced herself and opened a portal directly into Magnus’ living room. The two of them never bothered warding against the other; this was faster, in emergencies, and now — well, Magnus was not going to be adjusting his wards anytime soon, and that was all the more Catarina cared to consider that, at the moment. 

When the portal spat her out into Magnus’ living room, the first thing that Catarina noticed was that the loft seemed too quiet. There was no latent buzz of energy, no static against her hands — sensations she had always attributed to Magnus’ power. It made sense, she supposed, that it was all gone. Alec was not there, at least not where she could see — but Magnus himself was draped over the stool in front of his makeup table, peering intently into the mirror. There was a small brush in one of his hands; as Catarina got closer, she identified it as one used to apply eyeliner, for more high-end makeup. 

“Now, I know I’m no expert, but I don’t think staring at the brush makes it work,” Catarina said lightly, and Magnus actually jumped, the brush in his hand falling to the top of the table as he turned to look at her. 

It was always strange, Catarina reflected, to see the man without his finery. In a simple, mono-colored red robe, with his hair flat against his head and his face devoid of his usual make-up, it was difficult to see the former High Warlock of Brooklyn anywhere in him. But Catarina had known Magnus before he had learned that sort of style, so the sight was not as shocking as it might have been, to anyone else. 

“Catarina,” Magnus murmured, his lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. “I did not expect to see you soon after—“ 

“After I stormed out of here like you’d made this deal to offend me personally?” She suggested, her own smile self-deprecating. “I know. But Madzie was worried about you, after she spoke to you and she made me realize that I was being selfish when I left, earlier.” Without waiting for Magnus to respond, or react at all, she stepped in closer and dragged a second cushioned stool from under the table and draped herself over it. She’d worn a peasant skirt, that day, since she didn’t have to go to the hospital, and had to deal with the extra fabric, but she managed. 

Magnus shook his head, and reached out to take her hand. “I understand why you were upset, darling,” he told her honestly. “I would not take it well if you told me you planned to abandon me in a few measly decades, either.” Warm fingers slid over her knuckles, and Catarina had to swallow at Magnus’ easy acceptance of her temper tantrum. 

“You’re the only family I have left,” she said quietly. “You, and Madzie.” Ragnor was gone, and Tessa’s mind more occupied with books than friendships. Catarina knew there were others she counted as friends, people she trusted and relied on — but Magnus had been at her side since she first realized what she was. Hell, he had been the one to tell her what she was. The two of them had been through more together than any mortal could ever imagine, and now he was going to leave her for a choice he had made to put the lives of Shadowhunters ahead of his own. 

It was such a very Magnus thing to do that Catarina despaired. Of course the Shadowhunter’s life came before his own — very nearly everything did. Those who called him selfish had never truly known the real Magnus Bane. Not as Catarina did. 

“We still have time. I’m not going to die tomorrow. I have no intention of leaving you before I absolutely must.” Magnus’ smile was sad when she looked up from their linked hands, and Catarina leaned in to hug him, and brush a kiss over his cheek. 

“I know,” she whispered, holding on tight for a long moment, and pulling back only when she was absolutely certain that her eyes had stopped stinging. Crying over this would not solve the problem, and would only make the both of them feel worse. 

Since Magnus had plenty on his plate aside from worrying after her, Catarina straightened her spine and shoulders, and face him head on, the corner of her mouth crooking in a slight smile. “I haven’t seen you without a layer of makeup and your fancy clothes since the seventies,” she teased lightly, though the memories weren’t good ones. That had been the night Magnus had asked her to remove his memories of Camille, and been utterly devastated — it was a pattern. The only time Catarina witnessed Magnus as he was, naturally, was when he was broken. “Be still my heart!”

Magnus nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. This was strange; usually, while Magnus was hurt or horrified or grieving, he was almost manic in his attempts to convince everyone he was fine, in his attempts to lift his own spirits. This was — more upsetting, Catarina decided, and used her free hand to touch his cheek gently. 

“Darling, talk to me, please,” she said finally, her fingers sliding up his face to rest at his temple. Gentle pulses of white/blue magic soothed some of his hurts; Catarina could do that much, at least, though she was not sure how effective it could be when none of them were physical. 

“Alexander is awake, at the Institute,” Magnus said finally, after opening his eyes when her power ceased. She was relieved to see that he seemed a little more present, now, at least, though she believed she could see every one of his many years of life reflected in his feline eyes. “He called. He’s coming over in an hour, and I am trying to -“ He waved his free hand at the makeup table in front of him, his other one still clutching hers. “But I haven’t had to do this by hand in a very, very long time, if ever. And I find that I —“ 

Catarina’s expression softened, pain for her friend striking her. She lifted her free hand and cupped his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Well, it just so happens that I do mine by hand,” she said a steady, calm voice as she reached for the collection of makeup assembled on the table in front of them. With a slight smile, she disconnected their hands and lifted a sponge. It was nothing new for them to experiment on the other when it came to makeup, or fashion, especially as times changed and something ridiculous became the ‘in thing.’ Usually, this was done with a bottle of liquor and a healthy dose of mocking between them, but it hardly mattered. Catarina knew what Magnus wanted, and even understood that he would want to have as many shields as possible between himself and the world, now that magic was no longer an option.

As a rule, Catarina was as no-nonsense as possible, both in manner and appearance. She voiced her opinion calmly, but always without tiptoeing around it, and stuck to comfortable, serviceable clothing aside from special occasions. With a job that often left her exhausted and a six year old at home, Catarina rarely had time to play with makeup any more — but that did not mean she didn’t know how to do it, or understand how Magnus might feel bare without it. He’d explained it to her, once, and those words had stuck with her. 

It had been at the very start of the twenties, just as the first World War had ended. Catarina was living in France, still near enough the hospital she’d served in that she could be there to help if they needed her — but there had been no new casualties, and she was so exhausted that she’d locked her door, thrown up the strongest wards she knew, and crawled into her bed to sleep and try to shut out the horrors she’d witnessed as a nurse on the front lines for far too long. 

Magnus had appeared in her living room after the third day. She always left a hole in her wards for him, and for Ragnor and Tessa, though the latter rarely used them — but that day, Catarina had sincerely regretted it. The man had taken one look at her and wrenched the blankets back from her body, refusing to take no for an answer until she was up and dressed and ready to go outside and face the world. “This isn’t you, Catarina,” he’d told her, his voice firm and unyielding. It was a rare moment of solemnity from Magnus, and it had stolen her attention in a way nothing else could have. “The world goes on, isn’t that what you told me, when I wanted to wither away in bed? The world goes on, and we must go on with it. Up you get. Now.”

That day, she had been the one who sat still and let Magnus paint her face. She had barely recognized her glamour as it stared back at her from the mirror, with the bright colors and bold lines that were so common in the United States during Prohibition, but the effect had made her feel — stronger, somehow. More confident. Like there was another layer between the harshness of the world and her most vulnerable parts. 

“I know exactly what you mean.” Magnus’ expression was warm, when Catarina had tried to explain, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her carefully bound hair. “This way, we stand out. We’re different, and the world can’t touch us — because the world doesn’t deserve to see your tears, my darling.” 

When Magnus had insisted Catarina accompany him back to New York after that, she had given in all too easily. Speakeasies and flapper fashion had been fun, and Catarina had even taken almost a full year off of nursing just after World War I to enjoy it. The war had been hard on her heart, and at that time, she was still waking from nightmares of the soldiers even her magic couldn’t save, and the respite and good company had helped her move forward. 

The looks then had been dark and bold, and Magnus had never really changed his preferred look afterward, not enough to matter. Catarina applied the eyeliner carefully, her steady hands just as useful in this endeavor as they were in an OR or a triage bed. That was the last step, the finishing touch, and Catarina dropped her hands with a satisfied expression her face. 

Magnus’ bright eyes gleamed at her when she stepped back to assess her work, a slight smirk twisting his lips. “Do I need to check the mirror and make sure you haven’t written something uncomplimentary on my forehead again?” He teased, alluding to the last time Catarina had been allowed to touch his makeup — over thirty years ago, when she’d scrawled ‘DRUNK BASTARD’ over his forehead with an eyeliner pen after he’d vomited on a favorite pair of her shoes and passed out before she had even managed to catch up after her shift ran late, and he’d starting drinking without her. 

Catarina scoffed. “I think you would have noticed if I’d been writing on your forehead, this time — unless you drained an entire bottle of whiskey before I got here, again.” She wet the tip of her thumb with her tongue and rubbed away an errant dark line from the corner of Magnus’ eye, and smiled at him honestly, with no facades between them. “There. You look ready to face the world, now,” she promised, and turned his stool so that he could face the mirror and make sure she hadn’t done anything stupid to his face. Keeping him guessing was always fun, but today, it seemed in poor taste.

Golden eyes examined himself in the reflective surface, and Catarina moved to stand behind Magnus, resting her hand on his shoulder. They stared into the mirror for a long moment, and slowly, Magnus lifted his hand to cover hers, a sad smile turning the corners of his lips. 

“Almost perfect, my dear,” he complimented, not lifting his gaze. “But you forgot something.” 

Catarina arched a brow. “Oh? You know how I feel about bright lipstick, Magnus, so if you really want that, you’re going to have to —” 

Magnus shook his head in the mirror, his fingers tightening around hers. “Not that.” 

Pursing her lips, Catarina ran her eyes over Magnus’ face, trying to figure out what it was that she had neglected. He looked flawless, aside from the fact that he wasn’t yet dressed, and Catarina had no doubt that Alec Lightwood would be falling all over himself the moment he was in the same room as Magnus. 

“I’m going to need more words than that, Magnus,” she chided lightly, running her fingers through his hair. “What did I forget?” 

Now, Magnus looked up at her, his smile strained, and Catarina wondered what in the world she could have forgotten to bring this on. “I hate to have to ask it of you,” he told her quietly. “But I cannot go out into the city, or to the Institute this way. Can you — will you — glamour my eyes?” 

For a moment, Catarina froze. It hadn’t occurred to her that his eyes would need to be covered; the two of them so rarely used glamours around the other that she was well-used to his warlock’s mark being on display. And the idea that he couldn’t hide them himself was deeply upsetting. Glamours were personal. The spell, from another, would be long-range and difficult to maintain if there was little personal connection, and it was a risk to ask someone else to do it, because one never knew when the spell might fail. 

But who else could Magnus ask? She was the closest friend he had left, and definitely the most powerful of them. Perhaps this could make up for Catarina’s selfish reactions upon learning of the trade Magnus had made. Perhaps this would finally eradicate the feeling of guilt that made her feel nauseous when she considered it. And even if it wasn’t, Catarina knew she wasn’t going to deny Magnus. Not now, maybe never again — though she was sure he would take advantage of that when he realized!

Without saying anything, Catarina tugged her hand from Magnus’ grip and stepped directly behind him, letting her fingertips settle at his temples. Magic flowed from her and into Magnus again, this time with a more exacting purpose. She pictured his eyes, the ones he wore most frequently, and forced the spell from her hands and into him. When it was done, she opened her eyes — when had they closed? — and looked down. 

Dark eyes looked back at her in the mirror, and Magnus smiled, though the expression was more sad than it was pleased. Catarina pulled her hands back, running her fingertips through his hair as she withdrew, and returned the expression. “There,” she said quietly. “Now you’re ready to face the world, I think.” 

Magnus stood up from the makeup stool and stepped around it, wrapping Catarina in a warm embrace that startled her. She returned it after a split second, resting her face against his neck. “You told me once that the world didn’t deserve my tears,” she reminded him, fingers knotting in the silk of his robe. “The same goes for you. You’re Magnus Bane. Losing your magic doesn’t change that.” 

A warlock was often defined by their power, by their immortality — but Catarina had never bought into that mentality. She could acknowledge that had she lost her power, it would feel like a huge part of her identity had been torn from her, but she would still be a healer. A nurse. Magic simply made that easier. And Magnus would still be a friend, a lover, a warrior — magic had not made him who he was, no matter what he may think. 

“I wish I could believe that, darling,” he said, making no effort to pull away from the hug. “But I am utterly useless, now. Little better than a mundane. I couldn’t even put on my own damned makeup, and —“ 

“I’ll just have to keep telling you, then, until you believe it,” Catarina interrupted, not wanting to hear the litany of failings Magnus believed that he had. Without magic, the list had changed, but there had always been one, and Catarina had never been interested in it before, either. “And I’m sure I’ll have help. Alec, Raphael, Dot, Madzie, Isabelle . . .” There were so many people who loved Magnus, and Catarina knew that one way or another, he would come through this. That was the sort of faith she had always had in her closest friend, and that was the sort of faith she planned on keeping, no matter what their future brought. 

“Now. You were going to see Alec,” Catarina reminded, pushing at his shoulders to get him to let go. “And while I understand that he’s not likely to care what you’re wearing, the others at the Institute might take issue with you showing up in your bathrobe. If you go in that, I fully expect you to take pictures. Otherwise, you need to go get dressed, and get moving. And when you get home, there is a little girl at school right now who is fully expecting you for dinner, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t disappoint her.” Her expression was stern, though amusement danced in her eyes. She wasn’t going to allow Magnus to stew in self-pity, and if that meant having to put her own grief aside to make sure he lived out whatever time he had left happily, then Catarina was damned well going to do it. 

Magnus blinked his newly glamoured eyes, and a slow smile spread over his face. “If I’m going in this and taking photos, you can bet it won’t be for free,” he shot back, sashaying toward his bedroom door. “I suppose, darling, you had best start thinking of how much you are willing to pay to see the faces of the Clave, shocked and horrified by the sight of my bare chest!” 

Instead of rolling her eyes and shooting back another witty comeback, as she normally would have, Catarina took a moment to absorb the words. That, she thought, was Magnus, coming back to her. And he was going to be all right. It would take time, and some hard conversations, but losing his magic was not the end of Magnus Bane. 

And if she had to, Catarina would make sure of it.


End file.
